Back Down The Black
by Teliko. x3
Summary: The hand he examined was all too perfect not to have a ring on it, he decided.
**Back Down The Black**

 **Rating: It's fine.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

 **Summary: There'll be change, cause this one's too big not to see.**

 **A/N: I intend this to be a cute little one-shot, no plot at all. I felt like writing something cute and I've been in a Huddy mood a lot recently. Sorry for any grammar mistakes and listen to a band called Boy And Bear. The song is Back Down The Black.**

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She's always beautiful, but there's something about the way she looks tonight, with her hair up in a messy pony tail, wearing a tight black tank top that ever so slightly accentuates her breasts, and a pair of black running shorts that have delightedly come to rest low on her hips. She's barefoot and complacent as she dashes from corner to corner, gathering up the mess Rachel had so conveniently made during the day with Marina.

He watches her intently, feeling almost like a cheap boyfriend for not being able to quickly do away with the mess for her. He calls out for her to leave it; that it can wait until the morning, that Rachel will undoubtedly make the same mess tomorrow, but she waves him off and mutters something about 'it being alright and it won't take long'.

"Cuddy," he calls out one last time, but she's lost in her own world. So much so, that she doesn't see him push off from where he leans against her kitchen counter, their two glasses of nearly empty wine forgotten.

He hobbles over to her stereo and assortment of music. Her collection has been butt of many of his jokes, but it doesn't take long to find what he's looking for. And it's not until the music starts so slowly float throughout her living room that she stops mid-toy saving and looks up from her bent over position.

"What are you doing," she asks softly as he limps over to where she is, gently placing his cane up against the nearest object.

"Practicing my strip routine. I've got a show in half an hour and the big boys tip well if I show extra skin." She purses her lips in a well knowing smirk that he's trying to be romantic. "Get up," he's finally through to her, and she places her hands in his as she comes to a full stand. Without her heels, the height difference between them is astonishing.

But she stops when the familiar song finally registers in her head. She looks up at him in amusement, but he's chosen to avert her loving stare, for he knows he'll cave in the second he see's that beautiful smile and those wide blue eyes staring back up at him.

"House," she says his name dearly and he knows she'll never let him live this moment down for the rest of his life. "I thought you hated Fleetwood Mac," she says in an affectionate tone.

"Fleetwood Mac? No. Lindsey Buckingham? No man should be able to play guitar that great with a name like that."

She says nothing, but smiles and buries her face into his chest as his arms come to wrap around her in the most possessive embrace she's come to known. Her hands come up to rest against his forearms as they slowly sway back and forth in the middle of her living room.

She can feel his heart beat against her cheek with every pivot his damaged leg takes and she can't help the overwhelming feeling of love that washes over her. Never before had she felt like this in a man's arms, so safe and wanted. And if you had told her only a year before that she'd feel this way with none other than Gregory House, she would have laughed in your face.

But the idea isn't so funny anymore as she closes her eyes and allows him to guide her through the dance. For being a major jerk, the guy had a tremendous romantic side.

House knew the next time anyone asked him if he had ever been in love before, his answer would promptly explain meeting her in a bookstore many years ago instead of getting hit in the chest with a paintball. But he did love Stacy… and always would… though never as much as the woman currently wrapped up in his arms.

He had never thought he'd see the day when he could be happy and feel alive again, especially after pushing Stacy away and with the type of pain he was accustomed to now days. But much to his surprise, all it had taken was for him to wake up next to the dark haired beauty in the morning with her naked body pressed up snugly against his own while he watched the sun begin to pour in through the windows.

It had been the little things about her that had captured his heart. How she craned her neck around as they lay in the bed together, silently asking him to play with her hair, which he'd happily oblige. How she would silently sneak up behind him whilst he brush his teeth in the morning, her tiny arms snaking around his waist from behind and coming together just below his stomach. The late nights of her walking around his apartment wearing nothing but one of his old band t-shirts that stopped dangerously high on her thigh. The way she'd pull herself to sit up on his kitchen counter with a full glass of wine, watching him cook dinner with a face flushed with color.

He knew, without a doubt, that this was the woman he was meant to spend the rest of his life with.

So he leans down to press a sweet kiss to the top of her head when the realization sinks into the pit of his heart. His hands press harder against the small of her back to bring her even closer to him, refusing to let go of her any time soon. He loves how her soft skin feels underneath his rough fingertips.

The song slowly comes to an end but he refuses to let go of her, and she doesn't mind as he begins to lead her in another dance when a new song comes on. This time, she pulls her head back from his chest and raises her arms to rest up on his shoulders.

"You know… this was the very first song I ever slow danced to," she speaks up, licking her lips in anticipation for his witty comeback.

"Did you leave room for Jesus," he sarcastically asks and she laughs softly.

"I was a sophomore in high school. His name was Danny Miles. I'll never forget how… he drank too much of the spiked punch and threw up all over our principal." House had let out a small laugh at that, his grip loosening on her lower back and his hands sliding forward to grip her hips. "I like to think my taste in men has somewhat… evolved, if you will."

"Guess I'll just have to get Wilson to unload the bottle of whiskey I've been saving up for the Christmas party this year." She looks up at him with a knowing look. "Fine. I'll cut out the middle man and just go straight for Foreman's cup. Satisfied?"

And after their dance, hours into the night, she rolls over in her sleep just enough for her head to cradle into the space between his shoulder and the pillow. One arm is underneath her neck and he knows he'll lose feeling down to his fingers, but he rather endure the torturous pins and needles that'll come in the morning if it means he can watch her sleep. His other arm reaches over his body, his hand stopping just above her shoulder where his fingers gently caress the skin there.

At his soft musings, her eyes flutter open in the darkness of her room and she snuggles closer to him. She turns her head, presses an open mouth kiss to his bare chest, and mumbles an 'I love you' that he can barely make out above the sound of the air conditioner that's just kicked on.

She falls back asleep effortlessly, even as he grabs her left hand and gently brings it up to examine in the darkness of the room, much like he had done that morning he held her to his chest in his bathtub.

He had thought, maybe once… a long time ago, that he may have gotten married; try out the whole wife and a few kids ordeal, but when it never happened with Stacy.. he had given up all hope. Except for now.

The hand he examined was all too perfect not to have a ring on it, he decided.

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 **A/N: There it is! Hope it didn't suck too badly! Review and let me know what you think! Sorry for any grammar mistakes, again! Love you guys :D**


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